Musings of Bemusement
by PhantasmagoricalPandemonium
Summary: The calm following the draug appears to be one large nonevent, but Myrnin seems to be the paradigm, the black hole. What on earth is left for anyone to actually fear is a question unto its own, and Claire may find out in the most gruesome of ways.


I have Social Disease. I have to go out every night. If I stay home one night I start spreading rumors to my dogs.  
**`Andy Warhol**

How very Myrninious.

…**.**

Claire had finally managed to get Myrnin seated in front of the aged computer monitor in his lab; which was now a dusty, falling apart contraption that let loose an occasional series of beeps and shudders due to years (decades?) of neglect. Myrnin, Claire was now realising, was just a tad bit lacking in the understanding of the advancements of modern technology.

"Alright, I will explain this _one more time."_ She pinched the bridge of her nose, closing her eyes and gathering what little remained of her patience. "Click on the little icon…. Yes, that one, no, Myrnin, _not _with your finger, with the _mouse…._ What do you mean, _why_? So you can _launch_ the application and we can get to work, that's _why!"_

Myrnin laughed giddily, stirring up her frustration even more. "Don't be _daft_, little Claire. Why on earth should we like to _launch_ anything? That would be a measure to take had our castle been under attack, not to experiment with on this silly digital box. Are we in _danger, _then?" He was overcome by a look of excitement, a mischievous gleam in his dark eyes. "Claire, are we under _attack?_ This malignant machine must be destroyed!_"_

It was all she could do to resist slamming her aching skull repeatedly against the lab table. Or the wall. Or both. Myrnin shouted a terrific "_LAUNCH THEN, YOU DAMNED APPLICATION!"_ and attacked the bulky keyboard with a fist, which fell to the ground with a merciless clutter, exploding into plastic and metal fragments. Claire let out a shriek and instinctively jumped back, shouting incoherent curses at Myrnin, who was already zipping out of the room.

He returned with a stack of parchment and instruments that nearly toppled out of his hold, but still managed to dismiss Claire's furious ranting with a blasé wave of his hand.

"I find this to be quite boring, my dear. It tires me. If you must be of some assistance, go on…" he paused, looking around the cluttered lab. "and _do_ clean out the cabinets."

She started to protest that she had, not two hours ago, but he ignored her and began to scribble in a large and ancient leather-bound book. He raised a vintage glass bottle and gulped down the red liquid inside, then hesitated, looking up at Claire. "Oh, how rude of me. Care for any?"

"Myrnin." She spoke quietly, astonished. "You are _not_ offering me blood."

He rolled his eyes. "Poppycock, child. Don't be a ninny. It's _cranberry juice."_

"Right. Um, no thanks. I'll just…. I'll just go organise now, then…"

….

An hour later, she was home, stuffing herself with leftover chili. She heard Michael strumming lightly at his guitar downstairs, and Shane and Eve finishing up the dishes.

There was a flutter and a thud at her window pane, and Claire leapt up to assess the matter.

It was a bird.

Not a bird, a _pigeon. _With a bit of paper secured to one leg.

_God, _she thought, _he did NOT send me a letter by pigeon. He _didn't.

But her knowledge of him overpowered reason, and Claire knew that he _had_. She didn't even need to open the window (which was a relief) to see the print on the worn paper.

_COME OUTSIDE_

She turned to open her bedroom door and froze when she heard a shriek and a harsh thud upon the floorboards.

The door opened as quickly as she took a frightened intake of breath and took an involuntary step backwards. Myrnin braced one arm against the doorway, panting and careening over her. At his feet was a man completely clothed in black, his face covered by his unruly hair and blood.

Myrnin unfurled his fingers from his chest, his hand glistening in saliva and blood. Claire felt faint, stumbling backwards as she focused on the bone-white curve in the centre of his pale palm.

A fang.

"Claire, listen carefully to what I am about to tell you-"

The man on the floor suddenly jerked back into life with the fluid motion of his arm, leaping up and delivering a harsh blow to Myrnin's shoulder, who reached out to Claire before sinking to the ground. The other vampire lunged, sinking his teeth into Myrnin's throat.

…..

Some music to accompany the nonsense in my head:

"King Bubbles in Sand" - King Creosote

"Nightwalking" - Unbunny

"My! My! Time Flies!" - Enya

"Karma Chameleon" - Culture Club

"500 miles" - The Proclaimers

"Death is the Road to Awe" - Clint Mansell


End file.
